Whisper me Death
by The Walking Daryl
Summary: When Loki leaves Tony...and Tony does the only thing he knows how. [I wrote this at 4am in September of last year, and I was exhausted. Excuse the slight grammar issue.]


It had been three months since Loki had left him, and he figured he was slowly getting over it. He still couldn't figure out why Loki left, why he just ditched him like he did, maybe his hypothesis about Loki just wanting to weasel his way into The Avengers through him and bring them down from the inside was actually true. Probably not, since he hadn't touched any of them, yet. Tony sighed, sitting on the couch in his tower, hugging his knees to his chest and blankly watching the droll of the television. He hadn't touched a drink since than, he just couldn't bring himself to let it fall onto his tongue and slide town his throat. It was one of the main things he loved, almost nearly more then Loki, almost. He was quite confused on what to do with his life now, since they had been together as long as he could remember - since he found him at the ocean side. He had managed to shove all the memories into a box in his brain and lock it away, not wanting to venture back into that pain. He couldn't emotionally or physically handle it, if they all came out, he would be a total train wreck. He put his legs down, muttering something inaudible to J.A.R.V.I.S, only receiving a question in response, inquiring as to what he had said. He had to admit, he had never been this much in love with someone, not even Potts. Speaking of Potts, she would come over to check on him occasionally, bringing him things he was too upset to get himself. In retrospect, a cheese burger, some caffeinated beverage, and whatever else that was on his mind at that time. He really only wanted simple things, even though he could afford to buy the world.

He stood up, running his fingers across his goatee, before walking to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He planned on going out today, one of his first real ventures into "the real world", as some would call it. He was perfectly content with his own world he had created, which was basically him and J.A.R.V.I.S. Tony had began to slack terribly on his work, not even that bringing joy to him any more. He stopped doing public appearances, interviews, and even being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. Most of the Avengers were worried about him, all of them knowing what Loki did to him, and sometimes stopped by to check on him. Even Natasha came by, once, just to give him her condolences. He was a tad bit surprised by that, never thinking she cared about anyone but herself, and her work. The one who visited the most was the Captain, always trying to drag him out into the city to do something but, Tony didn't want to risk running into Loki. As long as he was in his tower, he was safe and okay, even though Loki could just come in whenever he wanted to. He opened up his fridge and grabbed the bottle, shutting it and turning on heel back to the living room. When he got back to his couch, he turned the TV off, and fixed a small pile of magazines slewed across the coffee table.

He decided he was going to go to the store to browse their food choices, not really wanting to go out to eat any more. He managed the smallest of a smile as he pulled his shoes onto his feet, and walked out of his living room and into the elevator. When he pressed the first floor, he closed his eyes and blocked out all the memories of his former love and that elevator. He waited patiently, listening to the dings of each floor, before the doors opened and presented him with the exit of his place. He inhaled deeply, stepping out, pausing for a moment to collect himself and prepare his emotions for the outside world. He clenched his fists and shoved them into his jeans, having gone for a more casual look, and made his way to the doors, stepping slowly out of them. The sun hit him dead in the face, and he suddenly flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, and letting out a groan. He had to admit, it felt kind of good to be back out in the fresh air, as fresh as New York allowed, and he opened his eyes to gather his surroundings. Nothing had changed since the last time he ventured out, the day before Loki called it off with them. Tony gulped down a sour lump forming in the back of his throat, dragging his feet along the concrete. He didn't bother to grab sunglasses, or bother getting into his car; he wasn't ready to face the emotions surrounding the motorized vehicles. He inhaled the warm air deeply, biting his lip and looking around at the busy streets. He didn't want to run into his past love, even though he could be anyone or anything living. Once he felt the coast was clear, he turned to the right, and began his journey to the grocery store. Everyone told him getting out of the house would make him happier but, he kind of noticed how wrong they truly were. He managed to pick up his feet as he walked, pausing every so often when someone didn't look right, or a black cat was somewhere near him or in his vision line.

He felt oddly safe, figuring that Loki had gone back to Asgard, so he wouldn't have to deal with as much as hurt as he could be. Stark pulled out his hands, letting them swing as comfortably as his body would allow beside him, trying to make himself move in a more relaxed position. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get himself to not be on guard or upset. Anything could happen, and he wasn't in the least bit prepared to handle a confrontation. He remembered his suit, though he had decided long ago that being in it wasn't good for any part of his health until he was ready to actually move on. He made it to the corner of the street, at the start of the cross walk, and wiggled his way in to the mass of people waiting to go to the other side. At first glance, he thought he saw a man who looked just like the god of mischief but, when he looked again, he realised it was just an average person, with average thoughts, average intentions, going about his average day. The slightest of a whimper escaped his lips, just as the sign signalled them to walk. He was shoved along the road, having to move with the sea of people, if he wanted to or not. He slightly hoped no one would recognize him, even though he didn't do anything to try and protect his identity. He didn't have an excuse as to why he was a no show, and eventually got used to not being invited anywhere any more. He bit into his lip hard, not enough to break skin, just enough to keep his mind focused on his goal, as he turned into the parking lot where the store was. Tony's eyes lifted up to read the sign above it, double checking that he was in the right place. He had no desire to drag attention to himself like usual, or even mutter out his famous line of him being a billionaire playboy philanthropist.

He moved his gaze to the door, focusing on it, shutting out everything around him. It was all about Anthony and the store, now, nothing could stop him from what he wanted. As he made his way to it, something caught his attention on the side of the store in the shadows but, he decided not to care about whatever it was. His arc reactor tried to glow proudly in the day time but, it wasn't dark enough to really shine through his shirt, and the sun light fought to keep it back. He finally got through the automatic doors of the building, looking around and letting his eyes adjust to the artificial lighting of the place. They suddenly began to burn, longing to have the natural light soothe them, so he reached up and dug the heels of his hands into them. He listened to someone enter behind him but, thought nothing of it, and walked toward a cereal aisle, his eyes still messed up. He managed to bump into someone, looking up into the icy blue eyes of his former bed mate. He let out a gasp, and looked at the person beside him, one only known to him as Sigyn. Tony's eyes figured that it would be amazing to look down at their hands, noticing their fingers interlocked. He let out a choked cry, and turned around, taking off as fast as he could out of the store and across the parking lot, with tears streaming down his face. All the memories burst through his box, flooding his mind, ravishing it with all the good times they had together, and the bad. He didn't care who saw him now, as he let out the most upsetting cries as he ran.

No one really paid him any attention, probably used to random crying people in the middle of New York. Since he hadn't made a public appearance in months, no one took notice to him, even when he flung himself through the doors of his tower. He collapsed to his knees onto the ground, sobs racking his body. He tried hard to dig his fingers into the smooth ground he was on but, he couldn't get the tips into it. A few minutes later, he somehow got to his feet, and scampered back into the elevator. He had a plan, and he sure was going to act on it; he didn't care any more. He had pressed the button to go back to the floor he was on previously that day, and leaned against the wall of the machine, letting more tears flow out. He hadn't let himself get this upset in two months, he really wasn't one to show emotion to others, always being the strong one. Now it didn't matter, seeing as how Loki had moved on to someone new and better. The familiar ding came and the door opened to let him out, so he fell back to the ground and crawled out, trying to drag himself along on his hands and knees to the kitchen. Stark used the counter to hoist himself up, yanking open a drawer as hard as he could, letting it crash to the tile below him. He turned around, getting out a bottle of Vodka, sitting onto the tile in front of the mess he made. As soon as his hand had hit the bottle, his tears ceased, and he went numb. He stared at the pill bottles on the ground while cracking open the bottle and drinking from it.

He did all but guzzle, not wanting to make himself sick, so he could do the job he wanted. Reaching out, he grabbed onto one of the pill containers, popping off the child proof lock. He told J.A.R.V.I.S to turn on their strong security system, and to not let anyone in til tomorrow. The A.I did as he was told, while Tony dumped nearly the whole bottle into his mouth, 29 pills, and swigged it all down with the drink. He knew at this moment that he was going to take his own life, not wanting to deal with the pain he was suffering from any more. He drank and drank, until the bottle was half empty, and he was feeling the effects from both the alcohol and drugs, laying himself down onto the tile. The death wasn't coming as quick as he wanted, and he needed to make sure he was actually gone, and not going to have to suffer from severe liver damage or something. With that thought in his mind, he drunkenly and slowly pulled off his white t-shirt, and clawed at his arc reactor. It was the only thing keeping him alive, and he knew it would be a quick and simple death. One last sigh left his lungs as he ripped it entirely out, base plate and all, and held it in his hand. His head hit the tile, squishing his face against the cold, white, surface, eyes falling close. He felt the effects from ripping it out, pain shooting through his entire chest. He has only experienced it a few times but, it was enough to remember it. The vodka bottle rolled out of his other hand as he laid there, awaiting his death. Soon he would be at eternal peace, and he would finally stop hurting. He couldn't bare to imagine life without his love, so he decided to end his life and heart beat right there. His body fell limp as it went through the last stages of cardiac arrest, stopping the pumping and blood flow, his mind beginning to shut down, and his organs coming to a rest. He inhaled and exhaled his last breath, as death swept upon him, his soul leaving him and travelling off to a new place.

It wasn't until the next day that his body was found, Loki had come into the building, feeling an extreme and nearly unbearable pain in his chest, one that could only come from Tony's arc reactor being removed from his body. The pale god got himself into the living room and kitchen, looking around for his Anthony. He was still in love with the genius, only leaving him for his own stupid personal reasons. As soon as he went around the counter, and his eyes noticed the missing drawer and travelled downward, he flung himself to Tony's side. He rolled the man over, feeling his body cold instead of warm, and everything as grey as can be. He looked around to find spilt alcohol, a nearly empty bottle of pills, and an arc reactor beside him. He didn't know what to do, he was utterly speechless at that point, the only noises he was able to create were whines and whimpers, and quiet sobs. Yes, the god of pranks, mischief, deceit, and lies was crying, holding onto the body of his own lost love. It was at that time when he realized what he actually did, and decided at that moment, he would bring on Ragnarökk. He didn't care any more, he had nothing left to live for, and he left the only thing that truly made him happy. Now that thing was gone, so he decided he needed to be gone as well. He didn't think at all about resurrecting Tony through his daughter Hel in Helheim, he just wanted everything to end, and he did just that.


End file.
